


To Build a Home

by whatdreamsaremadeon



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdreamsaremadeon/pseuds/whatdreamsaremadeon
Summary: Series of one-shots. After all that has happened, Clark and Lois build themselves a home.





	1. Hot and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day, a stuffy elevator is the candied cherry on top of a bitter, burnt cake. Lois hates candied cherries. Clark helps her take the edge off.

The temperature difference between the elevator and the hallway never failed to take Lois by surprise every time. Lois loosened the collar of her stiff, overpriced button-up that she convinced herself she needed a few weeks back in Nordstrom. For all that the real estate company claimed the apartment to be the “Hallmark of Luxury,” it apparently could never figure out how to properly air condition the freaking elevator.

With that said, this elevator issue was just about Lois’ only gripe with the downtown high-rise, for which she and Clark had traded in their previous five-story walk-up. Her views from the 55th floor, overlooking Heroes Park and the rest of downtown Metropolis, were extraordinary. At night, the rebuilt and illuminated statue of Superman shone in the distance. Her floor number was high, so of course, so was her rent.

After the return of Superman, Lois Lane’s repeated and popular coverage of the hero had made her all but a small celebrity. She was the go-to source on everything Superman - what he did, what he said, what he wore, how he did his hair, what his favorite food was, who was he dating, and much, much more. CNN dubbed her the “Superman scholar,” she was asked to comment on every controversial article or statement ever published about the Kryptonian, and was approached by people on a daily basis to “say hi to Superman for me.”

Then came the tabloids and online chat rooms. People speculated her true relationship to the righteous but elusive hero. _The Metropolis Mail_ put her face and Superman’s next to each other with boldfaced, all-caps neon text: AN ALIEN FOR A LOVER??? Some speculated they were just friends, or friends with benefits (which prompted the more explicit discussions about the _compatibility_ of humans and Kryptonians in certain aspects), dating, engaged, or secretly married. The rest were rebuttals of these theories, mostly from other professionals in journalism, who scoffed at the idea that Lois Lane, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner (the second from, you guessed it - writing about Superman), and the newly promoted Managing Editor of the Daily Planet, would ever do such a thing as fraternize with her biggest subject.

But their theories, fantasies, and in a few cases fanfictions, were all abruptly put to rest with Lois Lane’s announcement that she would be marrying fellow Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent, nearly a decade her junior and a simple, no-frills farmboy from Kansas who said things like “bless your heart” and had a swear jar. The two made no further comments and answered no questions. A short statement, a brief congratulatory note from the staff of the _Planet_ in the printed version, and a post on Lois’ Instagram of the small, private ceremony. That was more or less all it took to quiet things down.

On this particular day in which the elevator seemed even stuffier than usual, Lois was exhausted and not in her best mood by any stretch of the imagination. She had risen at 4AM to catch a flight back from Atlanta, where she had been investigating the CDC’s research on a new bloodborne pathogen that supposedly could turn people rabid upon contact. She made it back just in time for the 10AM staff meeting, where she threw out some ideas, delegated some duties and stories, and then ran off to meet another source for lunch on the other side of town. Then back to her office, where she worked until after the custodial staff left. At that moment, Lois wanted nothing more than dinner, a hot bath, and then to curl up in bed with Clark. Clark could join in on the second part too, she thought, if he so desires.

The aroma of something really, really good filled the air as Lois stepped into their apartment. Clark was by the stove and in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, his muscles contoured by the dim light of their kitchen. He was meticulously searing two slabs of salmon - one of Lois’ favorite dishes. Two plates of salad and two glasses of wine had already been spread out on the kitchen counter.

It was moments like these that Lois wanted to pinch herself really, really hard.

Lois dropped her handbag and briefcase, walked over and planted a kiss on Clark’s lips.

“Hey babe,” she said, a smile quickly forming on her lips as Clark wrapped his free arm around her. 

“Hey,” Clark pulled her close. “What took you so long?”

“Dead ends, unchecked sources, paperwork, all that jazz. I haven’t looked in the mirror for a while, but I probably look like hell. Even one of the janitors asked me how I was holding up.”

“That sounds horrible,” Clark flipped the salmon over. “But you look beautiful as always.”

Lois blushed. four years with this man, and he still never failed to give her those butterflies in her stomach. She leaned on his chest. “Also there was a screaming child on my flight and the cabin was way too hot. Couldn’t even get any sleep.”

Clark threw her a look of sympathy and squeezed lemon over the salmon. “Sounds like someone deserves an extra long back rub tonight.”

“Oh my god, please. That would be wonderful.” Lois watched as Clark plated his work and garnished it with cilantro.

“Anything for my girl,” Clark turned the stove off and sat down. “Come on, I bet you’re starving.”

 

Over dinner, the two had an animated conversation about Perry’s loud argument with a food delivery guy that day, how all of Clark’s sources in his latest article about Gotham’s cheerleading team wouldn’t stop hitting on him, and how they wanted to spend the vacation days they both had left that year. As they talked, Lois felt as if all her exhaustion from the past day vanished into thin air, and was replaced by the sheer happiness and joy that came from Clark’s mere presence.

She was still madly in love with this man, and saw no downhill from where she stood.

“Bath?” She asked as they loaded the dishwasher after the meal. She’d had quite a bit of wine and was a happy place, feeling as though she were floating on a cloud.

“Conserving our natural resources _is_ imperative,” Clark replied with a wink. Soon, Lois found herself propped up against his chest in their giant tub, receiving her promised back rub, being showered with kisses all over her head and neck. She groaned as Clark kneaded _just_ the right spot on her shoulders.

“Oh goooooddddddddd…” Lois’ head rolled back onto Clark’s shoulders. “You know, you could consider a second - I mean third career as a massage therapist. You’d make a lot of money. I’m your wife, and I’d pay you to massage me.”

“Well, the magical thing is, you don’t have to.” Clark burrowed his head into the crook of her neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Lois ran her fingers through Clark’s soft, dark curls, which had entire forum threads dedicated to. She chuckled as she thought about them.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m thinking about a thread I saw in your subreddit the other day that Jenny sent me a screenshot of,” she scratched his scalp, “they were wondering whether your hair is just naturally slicked back, or whether it’s another superpower of yours to instantly slick back your hair. They were only half-joking.”

Clark laughed and shook his head. God, Lois will never get tired of hearing him laugh. “If only they knew how much hair gel I go through.”

“Oh god.” Clark has a giant stash underneath their bathroom sink. Lois swears he probably spends half of his paycheck on that stuff to control his thick, unruly curls.

Clark moved on to kneading Lois’ neck, and she let out a low moan.

“You’re so good at that.”

“At what? Making you moan? I know.” That earned him a playful slap on his shoulder.

“Shut up!” Lois pretended to be mad, but her blush gave it away.

“You know it’s true,” Clark teased her as he ran his lips slowly over Lois’ neck and shoulders. His hand reached around her and grabbed a breast each, slowly teasing her nipples with his thumbs. Lois moaned again. “See?”

Lois shuddered, suddenly feeling hot. Hotter than the water could ever make her feel. A familiar throb began between her legs, a throb that can only be satisfied by one thing. She slowly turned around in the water and straddled Clark’s lap, feeling his growing erection rest between her legs.

“I think I need a little more proof…” she whispered into his ear, nipping at it as she spoke. “Wanna show me?”

Clarks moans became more urgent, his response was barely a whisper. 

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mental soundtrack for this fic is basically the entire Broadway cast recording of "The Bridges of Madison County." If you haven't seen/heard it or are not into musicals, you're missing out.
> 
> This isn't my first fic, but this is my first time posting on AO3, so I'm still in the process of getting acclimated to the format. I live for comments so please indulge me :) Love y'all <3


	2. One Second and a Million Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois is working. Clark is working. They're on opposite ends of the world. How will they ever manage?

“I miss you”

The familiar icon popped up on her phone screen. Lois quickly glanced down and couldn’t control her smile.

“…clearly had no part in this situation. We believe in honest business as much as you do, Miss Lane.”

Lois was quickly brought out of her momentary daydream by the monotonous, droning voice of the Vice President of whatever-the-fuck of Ace Chemicals. One of the largest chemical engineering companies in the country, Ace Chemicals had been plagued with scandal over the last few months, from spills in various harbors to accusations of toxic fumes being released adjacent to Gotham’s housing projects, Ace was quickly becoming one of the faces of corporate greed in America, not that there was ever any lacking on that front. Lois was now on hour two of this interview and completely ready to stab herself in the eye with her pen if it meant not having to listen to this talking head say another word.

It wasn’t like he was giving her any information that an email to their PR department couldn't have provided.

“Thank you, Mr. Salzman, I think I have all the information I need,” Lois smiled, “I really appreciate you speaking with me, and I’ll email public relations if I have any further questions.”

“Ah, there’s really no need for that,” the talking head responded, shoving his own business card in her face. “Just call me at this number, or,” he quickly pulled out a pen and scribbled something on the back, “here, my personal cell. Let me know, Miss Lane, if you ever want to grab coffee or dinner sometime.” He smiled a wide, gum-showing, yellow-toothed smile that made Lois instantly nauseous. She faked a chuckle.

“I’m flattered, Mr. Salzman, but I’m married.” She flashed her left hand in front of him. “Thank you, however. Have a nice day.” Before Salzman could respond, Lois scurried out of the restaurant, shaking her head.

“Fucking corporates,” she muttered under her breath. She unlocked her phone and replied to Clark, “Miss you too. Just got out of the most boring and creepy interview ever”

“Ugh that sucks, I’m sorry. What are you doing now?”

“Back to the office. Shouldn’t u be working? What time is it there?”

“It’s midnight babe haha. I’m done for the day”

“I wish. My to-do list has a fucking to-do list”

“I just want to fly back and make love to you right now”

Lois raised her eyebrows at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“You’re in bed right now aren’t you”

“Haha yeah”

“Being naughty?”

“Thinking about it”

“Remember what I said?”

“I know I know, just work, no interruptions”

“No cheating”

“I can be there in just a few seconds though, no time wasted ;)”

“No. Cheating.”

“Ok ok fine”

A notification banner popped up at the top of her screen. It was Perry: “Call me ASAP”

“I have to go babe, duty calls. Love you”

“Love you too”

Lois exited out of her messages app and looked up with the biggest grin on her face. Clark hit a huge milestone a few weeks ago - being assigned his first major overseas story, covering the intern-slavery crisis in Japan. Lois, on the other hand has more front page stories than some reporters have stories, and picked up a Pulitzer along the way. But considering Clark’s relative inexperience and his one-year…ahem, hiatus, Lois couldn’t be prouder.

Clark had been gone for almost a week already, and wasn’t due to come back for another week, but this time around, they had made an agreement to not take advantage of his super-speed to see each other. During Lois’ previous overseas assignments, they had both been guilty of abusing his powers and snuck away a few hours here and there. But if there’s anything Lois has learned, it’s that a good amount of time and distance makes desire just so, so much stronger, and reuniting so, so much better.

Also, when they haven’t seen each other for a while, the sex is mind-blowing.

Lois felt herself subconsciously licking her lips. _Dammit, not now, Lois._ She thought to herself. She looked back down at her phone. Perry had texted her again. “Where are you?”

Lois signed and tapped on the phone icon to dial Perry’s number.

_Back to work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always enjoyed the idea of Lois being much, much further along in her career that Clark is, for obvious reasons. Hope y'all enjoyed this relatively short chapter. Let me know what you guys want to see next, I'm always happy to take prompts :) Of course, other comments are always appreciated as well. You all are awesome <3


	3. Before and After You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galas and publicity aren't really Lois and Clark's thing. But since Lois is now one of the 100 most influential people in the world, they suppose they have to go.

Clark stood in the doorway of the hotel room’s ensuite, silently watching Lois as she applied her second coat of mascara. She was wearing a strapless dark burgundy dress that hugged her curves in just the right places. Her wavy ginger strands were draped over her bare shoulders, accented by a thin silver necklace that Clark had given her for her birthday a few months ago. Clark felt a strange, satisfying sense of possession, seeing her wear his gift. 

_Look at her! She’s mine!_ He thought, and then mentally slapped himself for thinking so. Old habits die hard.

Lois twisted her mascara shut with a soft pop and turned to smile at him. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” God, if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “You look amazing.”

Lois blushed, her smile widened. “So do you.”

Clark was wearing a sleek black tuxedo, complete with a pocket square and an expertly tied bow tie (thanks to Lois). He blinked as he looked at himself in the mirror. It was his first time wearing a tuxedo since… well, ever, really. But this was Lois’ night, and he’ll be damned if he was going to make it about himself.

A few months ago, when Lois had called him multiple times during a work day, Clark had panicked, fearing something had happened to her. But when Lois opened with, “I’m Time 100!” Clark had frozen in place. Time 100? _That_ Time 100? The 100 most influential people in the world?

_“Really?”_ He had practically screamed into his phone in the middle of the office.

_“Yes! Oh my god, I just got the phone call and email. I’m freaking the fuck out. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shi—“_

In that moment, Clark could have collapsed from joy. His wife. Lois Lane. One of the 100 most influential people in the world. According to _TIME_ freaking magazine. They had celebrated with some expensive wine, an even more expensive dinner, and some fantastic lovemaking afterward. He had made sure to be especially good to her that night, bringing her to the edge time and time again, closer and closer each time. When it finally hit her, she had cried out, her back arching in the most perfect curve, legs around his head and hands clawing at the sheets.

Clark blushed at the memory. She made the most erotic sounds when they fucked, sounds that had become a fixture of his dreams. He lowered his head and fiddled with his ring: a simple, sleek, undecorated silver band that served as a symbol for their devotion to each other — pure, untainted, absolute. 

Clark thought that he would never have this. Love. Not because he was incapable, but because he thought no one could love him. It wasn’t about attractiveness — Clark had a healthy perception of his attractiveness in others’ eyes. He had gotten used to flirtatious greetings and overzealous touches from men and women alike through his years of roaming, but he never felt truly, actually, _beautiful_ until his first night with Lois, when her hands roamed over his torso and her mouth devoured that pulse point on his neck that may as well be his “on” button. Afterwards, she had sprawled over him, gazing softly into his eyes in the sweet afterglow.

_“You’re beautiful.”_

Lois grabbed her clutch and slipped on her shoes. Killer nude pumps, four inches high. Still, she barely came up to Clark’s nose. Perfect height for him to draw her close and press a chaste kiss onto her forehead. 

“Let’s go, before the booze runs out,” she giggled in his arms.

Clark smiled and placed a hand at the small of her back.

“After you.”

———

Clark was a journalist, after all, and was thus no stranger to red carpets, flashing camera lights, or nosy questions about relationship statuses. He was not, however, prepared for the sheer amount and saturation of the aforementioned things at the _TIME_ gala.

Fortunately, both he and Lois have learned that in the world of tabloid journalism, fire can only be fought with fire.

They take what seems like thousands of photos, but manage to dodge any and all questions that were more in-depth than _“What are you wearing tonight?”_

_“A dress,”_ Lois had deadpanned. The two seemed to have perfected the art of answering a question without answering anything. After all, Lois Lane, Pulitzer Prize Winner, was not about to fall victim to her own brand of journalism.

They managed to get through the press line without doing too much damage to any egos, and filed in slowly to the banquet hall. A string quartet played soft music while guests huddled in small groups with flutes of champagne and tales of glamor, their extravagant gowns and garish jewelry a clear juxtaposition with the minimalistic, modern design of the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a full view of the Hudson, with Jersey City glistening in the distance. It was amidst these lights that Clark spotted a familiar silhouette, facing the window, back to the crowd.

It was Bruce’s second year in a row on the list. He didn’t show up last year, much to everyone’s dismay. In fact, it seemed like the elusive billionaire was done attending public events for good until earlier this year. Of course, when he did show up this time, he ended up by himself in a corner. Clark chuckled to himself. He really did make like a bat at times.

Clark left Lois with the editorial team of _TIME_ and silently approached Bruce. He looked deep in thought, his brows slightly furrowed, his lips a thin line. He didn’t acknowledge Clark as he took his place beside him.

After a long but comfortable silence, Bruce spoke first. “Alfred wanted to move here after my parents were killed.”

Clark turned to face him.

“He said Gotham held too many broken memories. Not just for my family, but for all the families.” Bruce turned around. “New York had good schools, bright lights, and criminals who were content with run-of-the-mill jewelry store robberies.”

“So why didn’t you move?”

Bruce smirked. “Because you don’t start a war and make it someone else’s problem.”

Clark paused. “So?”

“So I made it mine. I’ve been fighting the same war for twenty years, Clark.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“No, but it was sacked in one.”

Bruce’s tone was so matter-of-fact, it almost hurt to hear him speak.

“Is Diana here?” Clark asked, determined to change the subject into something more setting-appropriate.

Bruce shook his head.

“How is she?” The last all-league meeting was a few weeks ago, and he hadn’t seen Diana since.

“She’s fine. She’s in Paris.”

Clark knew better than to ask any more questions, but he also knew better than to pretend like he didn’t know about Bruce and Diana’s… encounters, if they could be called that. A skirt of hers draped over his lounge chair. Eye contact held for a few moments too long. The fact that he tensed up whenever her name was mentioned. Clark was no detective, but he did have eyes and ears. Great ones, at that.

Bruce looked down at his phone and cracked a hint of a smile. _Speak of the devil_ , Clark thought to himself. The smile disappeared in a matter of seconds, and his familiar mask of indifference returned.

“Ceremony’s starting soon.” 

———

Lois buried herself into Clark’s side inside the car that Bruce called for them. The countless flutes of champagne and glasses of wine she had drank at the gala only did so much to ease the pain in her feet.

“I’m never wearing these heels again,” she murmured under her breath.

“You say that every time you wear heels.”

“Okay then, correction: I’m never wearing five-inch heels to 6 hour-long galas again.”

Clark chuckled and slipped his arm around his wife, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m so proud of you. I love you.”

Lois placed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on his neck that immediately made Clark flush from head to toe. “I love you too.”

Clark held her closer and breathed in her scent — lavender mixed with something Clark couldn’t quite put his finger on. Her hands roamed up and down his chest.

He couldn’t wait to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, what can I say, Lois is a well-known and respected public figure and Clark something of her trophy husband. This chapter is kind of self-indulgent, but hopefully you all enjoyed it :)
> 
> On another note, I've already seen Justice League twice and was nearly brought to tears both times. Won't say much more so I don't spoil the movie, but I promise, it's worth your while.
> 
> Comments, commence!


	4. What do you call a man like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all so much for the wonderful comments! They're so sweet my heart might just melt. I do plan on continuing this story for as long as I have ideas/time, but it's difficult for me to hold down a regular posting schedule, being pre-med and suffering in organic chemistry and all. I anticipate that I'll be posting once every 1 and a half to 2 weeks, maybe a little more frequent than that over January, when I'm on break. Thanks again, and happy reading!

Okay, this time, Lois truly was out of her mind.

“You want me to _what_?”

“Shut up, Kent, I know you heard me the first five times. I want you. To give. A guest lecture. For my class.”

A few months ago, Lois had joined the faculty of Metropolis University as an Associate Professor of Journalism, teaching its undergraduate Investigative Journalism course for the fall semester. The class had filled up mere minutes after online enrollment opened, with every journalism student at MU vying for a spot to learn from arguably the currently most famous journalist in America.

Lois really did enjoy teaching. She enjoyed passing down the experience that she has learned down to the next generation. She enjoyed the vibrant discussions and debates that her class - although it was a lecture, engaged in every day, and the insights that not only she taught her students, but also ones that her students have taught her. She also understood, however, the importance of different perspective in journalism and academia, which was why she was currently standing in the middle of her apartment, trying to convince her disbelieving husband that he should go to her class and offer just that - a different perspective.

“We’re currently going over techniques in interviews and the ethics involving sources, and you know I’m known for my accusatory exposes, not exactly my _empathy._ ”

Clark shook his head and continued folding the laundry.

“Clark, I’m serious,” Lois continued, “You treat your sources with more respect and empathy than any reporter I know. Even the criminals you interview, you never let their actions influence you from giving a respectful, unbiased report. To you, it’s not always about getting the story, it’s about understanding the perspectives and lives of people involved in them. I can teach them writing skills and investigation procedures all day long, but you pay attention to the human element. Your New York truck attack article - that’s a prime example. You can talk about that—it went viral, didn’t it? I bet most of them have read it. I can’t stand up there in front of hundreds of twenty year-olds and tell them to be nice to people without at least half of them calling me a hypocrite in their notes.”

“They’re not—”

“Yes, they are.”

Clark sighed. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“I’ve never taught before,” he put up his final protest.

“Neither had I, but I’ve yet to get any death threats from the kids.”

“All right. But you finish folding the laundry.”

Lois smiled. “Deal.”

———

A week later, Clark stood outside the main lecture hall of the Arts & Science building of MU, second-guessing every decision he’s ever made in his life. How was he supposed to teach two hundred aspiring reporters something that he’s barely grasped himself? In his writing, he gives everyone the benefit of the doubt not out of some noble ideal, but rather out of habit. Years and years of enhanced senses and lack of identity have taught him and everything is more than meets the eye. Lois was right - it’s never about getting the story. It’s about truth, and truth, as he’s found, is never black and white, good and evil, or heroes and villains. 

Clark’s not sure if his philosophical revelations would make an interesting lecture.

“You can go in, you know. They only bite in a figurative sense,” Lois said, gently nudging him towards the door.

“I know, I’m just… collecting my thoughts.”

Lois smiled and opened the door.

“Try to keep up with my kids, Smallville.”

Every seat in the lecture hall was filled, faces and backs of laptops sitting in silent judgement. A few students eyed him curiously as he walked in.

Walking into a room was different when he was Superman. Superman stood tall, his very presence enough to quiet a crowd. Acting came easy enough to Clark. He could put on a faint smile, an authoritative voice and a confident demeanor, but all that came with the suit. He acts that way, because he has to. Clark Kent had never given a speech, never mind an hour-long lecture. If he could, he would probably be feeling nauseous right now.

This was going to be the longest hour of his life. Clark tried to relax while Lois introduced him.

“As I said last time, also on the syllabus, today’s gonna be a guest lecture. If you didn’t do the reading for today - you’re in luck, that’ll be due on Thursday. Paper is still due online next Monday, hardcopy next Tuesday, come see me after class or in office hours if you have questions. Now, let me introduce you guys to my colleague Clark Kent, also from the _Daily Planet._ By sheer random happenstance, I am also married to him,” That elicited a chuckle out of the crowd. “But seriously, I’m sure a bunch of you guys have read his work. Anyone read the online op-ed from _Daily Planet_ a few weeks called ‘Beyond Terrorist: The Consequences of Labels in an Age of Unrest’? Pretty sure it went viral - I saw it on my Facebook timeline a lot.”

Clark saw a few nods from the crowd.

“Obviously I’m biased, but I truly think Clark’s a breath of fresh air in this industry. He doesn’t let the tunnel vision that we as journalists are accustomed to get to him. I don’t want to steal his thunder, so I’ll let him talk about the rest.” Lois turned to him, a warm smile stretched across her face. Clark swallowed thickly. He wondered if any of the students could see.

Clark took a few steps forward at came to a stop at the podium. He adjusted the microphone. At this moment, his heart was surprisingly still. _It’s fine,_ he thought to himself. _They’re nice kids, they’re not gonna eat you alive._

His lecture flowed much better than he had anticipated. Once he got past the initial anxiety, he found it remarkably comfortable to speak about a subject that he loved. He spoke about understanding - not for the sake of exonerating anyone, for the sake of presenting a more thorough, mature, and responsible story. He spoke of not allowing one’s emotions to overpower impartiality, but also of the importance of an emotional perspective.

“We are inevitably emotional creatures. There’s no escaping that. So we take advantage of the fact that we feel things, but cannot allow the feelings to take advantage of us. It’s a double-edged sword - we as reporters have to use it wisely.” That earned him a few more nods and clatters from keyboards.

He then went over what he called the “trauma-informed approach to storytelling.” How to ask questions that get to the point, but are not overly harsh or cruel, and how to get an answer out of someone without resorting to harassment or verbal abuse. Most importantly, he talked about his techniques in gaining trust. “Maintain your status as a neutral representative. Unless absolutely necessary for the story, don’t take a clear side. If you go into an interview with an agenda to push, there’s a limit as to how successful you can be. You might get a civil response, but not a truthful one.” More nods, more keyboard noises.

“At the end of the day, you’re not a prosecutor or a judge. There’s no point in making any moral indictment, that’s not what truth is. Truth only takes sides in our lives because that’s what we’ve forced it to do, and as journalists, it’s our responsibility to uncover it as best as we can. Get to the story first, then worry about right or wrong.”

Clark looked at Lois, who seemed be beaming with pride.

“That’s all I’ve got for you guys for today, any questions?” Clark ended his lecture to a flurry of light applause and a few raised hands. He spent the next ten minutes or so answering questions about his work, his writing, and his positions on various issues.

“One last question,” Clark nodded to a student in the front row, as the hour came to an end.

“What made you want to be a journalist? You mentioned to didn’t start working as one until you were 33, what made you change your mind?”

Clark hesitated for a moment, trying to come up with an answer that wasn’t sappy as hell. He gave up on the attempt.

“Honestly, it was when I started dating Lois,” Clark blushed behind the microphone. A chorus of “awwww”s erupted from his audience. Clark glanced at Lois, who was turning beet red, and couldn’t even bear to look at him from the other side of the room. “Your professor’s an amazing woman. She was the one who allowed me to really see the importance and relevance of the profession. Remember what I said about truth? She exemplifies the pursuit of it. As she’s probably told you, journalism’s about seeing the engines of the world for what they are - and it wasn’t until I met her that I realized such a thing was possible,” he smiled at his wife, whose smile could’ve fallen off her face if it were any wider.

“I feel lucky to have her, and you guys should too.”

———

As the students filed out of the room, Clark momentarily broke his own “no eavesdropping” rule and listened to a few of their quiet conversations amongst themselves. _For feedback_ , he told himself.

“…a really good lecturer.”

“Yeah, seriously.”

“They’re adorable…”

“I don’t know if I agree that truth doesn’t take sides…”

“God, what do you call a man like that?”

“Gorgeous. Perfect. Lois Lane really hit the jackpot.”

“…first professors I’ve had that have had sex with each other.”

Clark nearly spat out the coffee he was drinking when he heard that last one.

When the room was empty, Lois wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades. Clark covered his wife’s hands with his own and leaned back against her.

“You were amazing.”

Clark turned around to face her. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Damn, I’m gonna have to step up my game for the rest of the semester. That’s one hell of a tough act to follow.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Clark stroked her back slowly. Lois blushed, not for the first time that day.

“Let’s go home?”

“Yeah, let’s go home.”


	5. Almost Unreal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes on a few things:
> 
> 1\. Thank you all so much for reading/commenting/kudos-ing!
> 
> 2\. There is some light Wonderbat in this chapter, as there will be in later chapters. Emphasis on LIGHT. On one hand, I do believe Steve Trevor is the love of Diana's life. On the other hand, I don't see her as the type to shut herself off like a nun for the rest of history. Bruce is a good man, and they have chemistry, so I don't apologize for writing this relationship into this story. It's totally understandable, however, if you dislike the ship and would prefer not to read about it. In that regard, I would say that Wonderbat is, and will remain a background relationship for the rest of this collection, and you can totally skip over Wonderbat sections without any damage. I may write another story in the future that focuses on their relationship, but rest assured that if you came here for Clois, you'll get Clois.
> 
> 3\. With that said, this chapter is shorter and from Bruce's perspective, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it and may be my favorite so far. I hope you guys like it as well.
> 
> Happy reading!

Every joint in Bruce’s body ached so severely, it was an effort to open the childproof cap to the pill bottle. He couldn’t control the tremor in his hands as he swallowed a palmful of little white tablets with his whiskey. He knew he shouldn’t drink while on his meds, but exhausted, hurting, and frustrated, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Damn his liver and kidneys. He just wanted to go to sleep.

But he couldn’t - not yet. He needed to check on his team first. Against his body’s wishes, Bruce made his way into the main room of the Batcave.

The scene was a sight to behold. If he were in a better mood, Bruce might have chuckled.

Barry and Arthur were passed out on the couch, each taking an end, mouthes open and still in their suits, Arthur’s trident lying haphazardly on his coffee table. Vic was sitting in an armchair off to the side, apparently resting his eyes as well. Does he even get tired? Can he… power down? Bruce filed those questions away in this head to ask later.

Even Diana, an actual goddess, seemed physically and mentally drained, cleaning her sword with un-careful hands. Sensing his presence, she raised her head and gave him a tired look. Any other night, Bruce might have invited her into his room to blow off some steam together, as they had been doing for a while now. He suspected that tonight, neither of them had the physical or mental capacity to do so, so he only reached out and rubbed her shoulder affectionately. Diana responded with a tight smile.

Then there was Clark, who he knew for a fact _did_ sleep, passed out on the other sofa, head in Lois’ lap. Lois was stroking his hair slowly with one hand and tapping away furiously on her phone with the other, no doubt answering one of her countless work emails. 

They were so in love it was disgusting.

_No, not disgusting,_ Bruce shook himself out of the thought. _Beautiful. Inspiring. Unconditional. Almost unreal._ He wasn’t going to allow himself to spread his negativity on something so clearly perfect. 

Bruce watched as Lois absentmindedly fiddled with her rings, and his eyes drifted to Clark’s matching one. Clark took his ring off for Superman duties, but could always be trusted to put it back on first thing after he got back. He often caught him fiddling with it, just as Lois was at the moment, his eyes going unfocused, deep in thought, clearly thinking about his wife. They weren’t _inseparable_ per se. Lois often disappeared for weeks on stories, and Clark’s duties to the League took him away for entire nights at a time, but they could always be trusted to find their way back to each other.

It was the type of love that dreams are made of.

Clark shifted in his sleep, burying himself deeper into Lois’ belly. Lois smiled and continued stroking his hair.

Bruce dimmed the lights in the room and turned off the monitors.

“The pantry’s just upstairs if you’re hungry,” he quietly murmured to Lois. Lois nodded in thanks.

As he made his way back into his room, Bruce allowed himself a few brief moments of contemplation of the complex emotion known as love. He thought about his parents, protecting each other until the very end. He thought about Clark and Lois, the perseverance of their love despite Lois’ rough edges and Clark’s double life.

He hoped he could find something close to it one day.


End file.
